I sat down in the wooden rocking chair near the window, watching his hands.

His fingers were calm and steady as he drew three milliliters of pink antibiotic into the plastic syringe.

He slid the tip into the side of June’s mouth and dispensed the medicine slowly, letting her swallow each drop before giving her the next.

“Alan Vance sent an email at four o’clock,” Ethan said, keeping his eyes on June’s face.

“About the product launch?” I asked.

“The presentation went fine without me,” Ethan said.